


Clegane Howlings

by celticheart72



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-03-01 15:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18803218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticheart72/pseuds/celticheart72
Summary: This will be an ongoing collection of ficlets for Sandor Clegane. Each chapter will feature a ficlet with a specific prompt or plotline request.Specific warnings for each ficlet will be in it's beginning notes.





	1. Don't Spread Rubbish

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt “I don’t know how you’ve put up with me for this long, but I love you for it.”
> 
> WARNINGS: none

You climbed the battlements of Winterfell in search of your husband. Despite winning the war with the Night King and Danaerys Targaryen retaking the Seven Kingdoms and bringing peace to Westeros he was always leery. Always watching. He didn’t think the peace would last. Frankly neither did you but you wanted, just for a short time anyway, to not have to worry every single second of every day.

Finally you found him, standing alone and staring off towards the North where the Dead had once massed. His furs were pulled down around his broad shoulders and he was facing the wind. You were sure if you’d seen his face in that moment that his eyes were closed. The man before you had been feared for so long as the Lannister Dog, more likely to bite than listen to reason. He had a soft side. For you. A few others such as Sansa. And when he was alone.

Approaching from his right side you could see all of the scars on his face. Some would call him ugly because of them but in them you saw his strength and determination. You also saw his pain and self-loathing. He still scolded you for standing at his right hand instead of his left; arguing that at his left hand you were under his heart and protection. When you married you chose to stand at his right hand. Your argument was that you were always in his heart and under his protection, but he needed to see that you loved his scarred side as much as the unscarred one. It hadn’t been your direct intent, but you thought he loved you just a little bit more for that on that day.

“I can hear you thinking woman.” Sandor turned slightly to look at you. “What’re you doing up here? It’s cold.”

You moved to his side and he lifted his furs to wrap his arm and the furs around you. “It’s the north Sandor, it is always cold.”

His chest vibrated against your back with his growl of acknowledgement.

You looked out at the white swirls dancing on the lanscape and leaned back into Sandor, enjoying his warmth.

Finally after long moments of silence you felt him turn you toward the stairwell and he shifted you to walk in front of him. When you reached the bottom of the stairs he dropped a kiss on the top of your head. “I don’t know how you’ve put up with me for this long, but I love you for it.”

Reaching out to grasp his hand you pushed up on your toes and leaned into him. He still had to bend down slightly to press a kiss to your lips. “I put up with you because under that gruff exterior you show all of Westeros is a kind and gentle man.”

“Better not spread that rubbish.” His rasp was gruff but the flicker of a smile ghosted his lips.

You just smiled coyly as he walked away to continue his inspection of Winterfells defenses. Always making sure you were safe.


	2. Vows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “Put me down!” & “Why? Because I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s why!”
> 
> WARNINGS: none

Winterfell prepared for war. Again. Despite hoping the peace would last somehow you knew it wouldn’t. That just wasn’t the way of Westeros. Dany and Jon had ruled for several years without conflict, but somehow Cersei returned with an army at her back seeking to retake the throne. Someone should have beheaded the woman when they had the chance.

You were in the practice yard practicing your sword work on one of the wooden dummies when all of a sudden, a strong arm reached around under your breasts and lifted you off the ground. The sword was removed from your hand and tossed aside as you were carried, in front of everyone, back into the keep.

“Sandor, put me down!” You screeched at your husband.

“Fool woman. What in the seven buggering hells are you doing with a sword right now?” He continued to carry you until you were over the threshold of your chamber door where he finally set you back on your feet.

“I need the practice Sandor! Why did you stop me?!” You stomped your foot and glared at him.

“Why? Because I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s why!” He practically roared at you making you shrink back from the sheer volume of his voice.

“How am I going to get hurt in the practice yard Sandor? You’re going to be going off to help Jon and Dany fight Cersei’s army and I’ll be left here with Sansa, Arya, and a scattering of Winterfell’s guards. I’m the best sword in this keep next to you and you know it!”

“Aye. That’s right. But you also carry my son beneath your breast right now, what if you stepped wrong and fell?” He waved to your very obviously pregnant belly. “Besides, it’s my duty to keep you safe. I made a vow to you that I intend to keep. Jon and Dany have their dragons to help them. They don’t need me.”

At his words your ire receded. Sandor Clegane was one of the most feared men in all of Westeros but when it came to you, and his unborn child, he was the softest of men. Of course, he planned to stay behind when Winterfell’s army left for King’s Landing. He didn’t make vows, except for the ones he made to you on your wedding day, and those he would never break. Reaching out you took his hand and lifted it to press a kiss to his palm before stepping forward to rest your forehead on his chest. “Alright Sandor, alright.”

His other hand reached up to run through your hair and he dropped a kiss to the top of your head. “Good.”

Smiling you wrapped both arms around him. “You know I love you, yes?”

“Aye. And I you.” The hand you’d released came around your back to hug you into him as tightly as he felt he could.

Who would have ever predicted that the Hound would one day fight for Winterfell against the Lannisters as he waited with his beloved wife for the birth of his son? He must have done something right in the eyes of the Seven he thought. Or maybe it was the old gods of Winterfell. Either way, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to either one of them.


	3. Not Gentle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “Don’t look at me like that and then feign innocence.”
> 
> WARNINGS: smut

You knew you were taking a huge risk but it seemed the only way Sandor Cleagane would take you seriously would be if you asserted yourself in a very direct way. The King’s caravan from Winterfell back to King’s Landing was taking forever, mostly because of the Queen’s rolling carriage. Every night you were cooped up in a tent with Sansa, Arya, and Septa Mordane, who snored louder than the rest of the camp combined. Fortunately for you the Septa had no control over what you did or who you did it with. Nor did anyone else.

Walking quietly through the mostly sleeping camp no one dared to question or stop you. There was only one man you wanted to see and his tent was looming ahead of you. When you got to it you paused at the flap and took a deep breath before ducking inside. You found Sandor sprawled over his furs, one arm thrown up over his face, the other hand holding a wine skin. He sat up quickly when he saw you, eyes widening when you dropped your cloak to reveal your nakedness.

A primal look of desire crossed his face and just as quickly disappeared before he growled at you.

You shook your head and moved to stand between his knees and took the wine skin from him to set it aside. “Don’t look at me like that and then feign innocence.”

“Seven buggering hells woman. What is wrong with you?” He stood up so quickly you had to take a step back.

“Nothing is wrong with me Sandor. You seemed blind to my subtler overtures so I thought I’d present myself to you in a manner that was not so subtle. I thought perhaps you needed some…encouragement…” You reached a hand out to stroke the outline of his hardening cock behind his breaches and heard his sharp intake of breath.

“I am no knight, nor am I some lord you can toy with for some political gain.”

Smiling up at him you continued stroking his now fully hardened cock and ran your fingers over his balls as well. “I know full well who and what you are. I make my own choices, for myself. It is you that I want, nothing and no one else.”

Sandor growled again. “I am not gentle.”

“That’s not what I’m looking for.”

His eyes studied you for a long moment before suddenly you were lifted in the air, spun around. and tossed back onto his furs with a thud. You pushed up into a half sitting position and watched in mute fascination as he hurriedly undid the ties of his breeches then pulled his cock free as he kneeled in front of you. Two large fingers probed the wetness he found in your pussy lips before thrusting inside of you. Your head fell back at the sensation his exploring fingers sent through your body and you sucked in a breath when he stroked that spot deep inside of you that made your legs shake. He growled again as those fingers left you and your legs were pushed wide apart. When you looked down the head of his cock was poised right at your entrance and his eyes held yours as one quick hard thrust had him seated fully inside of you.

Your toes curled at the tingling sensation and you dropped to your elbows to watch his cock sliding in and out of your pussy. Nothing in your life had felt so good, so wicked, and so right at the same time. Your eyes lifted to his and you realized he’d been watching you as you watched him fucking you. Laying back you lifted your legs to wrap around his waist and met his strokes with your own. Sandor’s eyes were wild, full of a fire you doubted he was aware of and he grunted with each snap of his hips. It wasn’t long before the heat building low in your belly engulfed the rest of your body and you were convulsing under him and moaning his name. He paused in his thrusts at your first cry, the sound of his name on your lips seeming to surprise him, but he recovered quickly and your orgasm was that much more intense for the pause. When his own climax overwhelmed him he thrust hard, pushing you up the furs, and stilled as he pulsed inside of you and cursed to the Seven.

He pulled himself from your body and rolled to his back. When you lifted up to give him a tentative look he narrowed his eyes but held an arm out for you to rest against him. For as much as he protested being with you, claiming he was not gentle, somehow for you he was without even trying.


	4. Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you. I think fate was being harsh with you.”
> 
> I changed the prompt wording slightly to match the genre and scenario better.
> 
> WARNINGS: none

You found Sandor sitting outside of your tent in the cold, close enough to the fire for the warmth but far enough away for it not to send any sparks his way. He was sitting on a log he’d dragged over to make things a little more comfortable the evening before. Wrapping your cloak tighter around your shoulders you sat down next to him.

He turned his head to look at you, the air forming a mist from his nostrils as he breathed. “Seven hells woman, what are you doing up?”

Bouncing your shoulders, you leaned into him. “I woke up and you were gone so I came to find you.”

Shaking his head, he returned his gaze to the fire and grumbled. “People like me…” He was tense and still shaking his head as he paused. “…we aren’t supposed to have someone like you.” Sandor’s eyes found yours when he continued. “I think fate was being harsh with you.”

It was the same old argument. He never understood what you saw in him. Lannister dog and all of that rubbish. From his perspective you deserved better, a highborn man who could give you the gowns and jewels he believed you should have. None of that was what you wanted though, and you reminded him of that constantly.

“Sandor, fate would be harsh if it took you away from me now. I’m with you first and foremost because I love you. But also because you respect me and my choice to live my life as I choose and not how it has been dictated to me. That means something in this world.”

“Aye.”

You playfully shoved at his shoulder, not that it got you anywhere, immovable rock that he was. “Fate brought us together for a reason. We were meant to be.”

Sandor sat up and put an arm around you then leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “So you tell me. Can’t say as I understand my good fortune, but I’m not giving you up.” He watched your face for a minute. “Come on woman, I don’t think fate meant for you to freeze out here.”

He stood and reached a hand down to help you up then led you back into your tent where he held you close to his chest as you returned to sleep. Thankful to the Seven for the fate that brought you to him.


	5. 'Til The Stranger Takes My Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “I like this, being so close to you.”
> 
> WARNINGS: allusion to sex

 

Sandor climbed back into the bed under the furs with you. It wasn’t often you had him to yourself. Normally duty and battles took him away for long periods of time and what few moments you had with your irascible husband were cherished. Despite his surly demeanor he had a softer side but it was reserved only for you and to a much lesser extent Sansa and Arya.

You trailed your fingers over the muscles of his arms and chest while he watched. The beginnings of a smirk quirked his lips as your fingers threaded through the hair of his chest. As your hand moved lower you scooted closer into him and laid your ear over his chest so you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His big hand, capable of so much destruction, laid gently over your mid-back.

“I like this, being so close to you.” You whispered as you turned your head to press a kiss over his heart.

His chest rumbled and you felt his fingers in your hair. Sandor wasn’t one to mince words and he wasn’t one to speak where he thought it unnecessary. It didn’t matter to you if he never gave you the pretty words. He gave you his heart when he spoke his vows the day he married you and you knew what that meant.

Some hours later, when you were boneless and sated, falling asleep in the safety of his arms you felt him press a kiss into your hair. His lips hovered next to your ear and just before you drifted off heard his whisper.

“I’ll love you ‘til the Stranger takes my soul.”


	6. Cold Not Scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “You can hold onto me if you’re scared you know?”
> 
> WARNINGS: none

 

It had been a long ride from King’s Landing. Sandor got you out in the midst of the Battle of the Blackwater and you couldn’t have been more grateful to the brute of a man. He’d been the one person in all of that hell hole that had never treated you like your value as a woman lie solely in your cunt.

You sighed and gripped your arms tighter. It was dark, the sounds in the forest around you were foreign, and you were cold.

Sandor growled next to you.

The two of you were sitting on a fallen log about two feet apart. There was a small fire in front of you that you’d started to cook the rabbit Sandor had caught for your shared dinner. He growled about that too come to think of it.

It wasn’t really large enough to provide any meaningful warmth. You hadn’t wanted to upset Sandor by starting a bonfire. All you wanted was to not have to eat the rabbit raw. As much as he grumbled and growled about it he seemed to appreciate a hot meal in his belly too.

“I’m not going to hurt you girl,” Sandor turned his head to watch you shivering and looking around. “You can hold onto me if you’re scared you know?”

You huffed out a breath and rolled your eyes toward your companion. “I’m not scared Clegane, I’m cold.”

He studied your face, searching for any sign that you were lying to him. Finally, his normally stormy brown eyes softened when they found none and he lifted his arm with his cloak over it. “Come on then.”

It wouldn’t do for him to see the flicker of a smile that started on your lips so you forced it down as you scooted closer to him and felt his muscular arm drape around your shoulders. His body heat instantly warmed you and your shivering stopped. “I’m also not afraid of you.”

The rumble of his laugh spread through you and the rough but genuine sound of it made you smile. “Aye, you wouldn’t be.”

You tilted your head back to look up at him, even sitting on the log he still towered over you. When you met his eyes you found him smiling back at you.

It was a start and there was a long road ahead.


	7. Don't Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “You can’t die on me, not now...please!”
> 
> WARNINGS: angst, mention of life-threatening injury

 

After everything the two of you had been through to get this far Sandor was seriously hurt defending you. You were doing everything you could to care for the wound, but it was beyond your skill. He needed a maester and fast.

It took some effort, but you made a litter for him and got him onto it and then hitched it to Stranger’s saddle. The normally taciturn courser seemed to know his master was in trouble, so he wasn’t trying to bite your head off every time you had to handle him.

By the third day Sandor was feverish, coughing, and his wound was angrier than he was likely to be if he woke up and realized you were risking yourself for him.

You held his large hand to your lips and let the tears go finally while exhaustion took over and you dropped to your knees next to his makeshift litter. “You can’t die on me, not now...please!”

His thumb brushed your cheek as he coughed again. Lifting the waterskin to his lips you let him take a few small sips before closing it up again. His voice was still hoarse when he spoke. “Foolish little woman. Should have left me behind.”

“I can’t do that, Sandor.” You paused for a moment considering your next words before deciding it didn’t hurt anything now to tell him. “I…” Licking your lips you took a deep breath. “I love you.”

His eyes found yours and he laid so still while he stared at you that you finally had to lay your hand over his heart to make sure he was still alive. “Not dead yet.”

“Sandor…”

“Looks like you could use some help!” A male voice called from the road behind you.

Drawing your sword you stood quickly and spun to face him. “Don’t come any closer.”

He raised his hands and eyebrows and looked at Sandor on the litter. “I can help your friend.”

“Who are you?”

“Septon Ray.”

You chewed your lip, if this man was a Septon you might not be in any danger from him. The truth was you’d do anything to ensure Sandor’s survival. “He was wounded three days ago. I don’t know how much further we can make it.”

“Well, you don’t have far to go now. Come on then.”

Sandor had drifted off again and couldn’t argue and frankly you just couldn’t go much further without help so you followed Septon Ray. The entire short walk to where he and his followers were building a small sept you held Sandor’s hand praying to the old gods that he would make it and come back to you.


	8. I'll Remind You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "You keep saying that we're friends but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true."
> 
> WARNINGS: mentions of drinking

 

You weren’t sure how much help you really were, but nonetheless you had Sandor’s arm draped around your shoulders. He was drunk on wine and stumbling as you walked with him back to his room. Maybe you should have let someone else take him but frankly you wanted away from the feast and the Royal family.

“What are you doing girl?” Sandor stopped suddenly and swayed on his feet while trying to turn to look at you fully.

“What do you think I’m doing? Helping you back to your room.”

“Why?”

“That’s what friends do Sandor. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? You keep me safe because you’re my friend. Well, now I’m returning the favor.”

The big man next to you just grumbled but he looked down at your face with an unreadable expression on his own for what felt like an eternity.

You looked up at him with a wry smile as you tried to steady his steps. “You know Sandor, you keep saying that we're friends, but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true."

“Baaaa, doesn’t matter what I’d want. You’re too high born for the likes of me.”

“I make my own choices Clegane, you’d do well to remember that.”

His eyes narrowed as you approached the door to his room. “You’re a stubborn little thing.”

“That I am.”

“Why would you want an old dog like me anyway?”

“You’re honest and treat me like I mean something more than what my house can give you.”

Sandor grumbled again as he pushed his door open and paused to really look at you. “Pretty sure you’re daft.”

That made you smile; it was his way of acknowledging the fact that you did in fact want him and that he felt the same. “And I’m pretty sure you’re drunk.”

He nodded. “Aye, that I am. Might not remember this in the morning.”

You turned back to look at him before pulling his door closed. “Then I’ll just have to remind you.”


	9. Wine and Apple Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt “If you say another word about her you’ll regret it.”
> 
> WARNINGS: sexual undertones

 

“Wonder if her cunt tastes like fine wine?”

A snort. “Nah, bet it tastes like apples.”

“Why apples?”

“Warm apple pie.”

A humming sound. “Yeah. Her cunt probably tastes like apple pie.”

The point of a dagger at each man’s throat. “If you say another word about her, you’ll regret it.”

Both men go completely still. One speaks for them both.

“We didn’t mean no disrespect. We were just…”

“Talking about a woman you had no business even looking at.” A deep rasp and the daggers are withdrawn after a few more seconds. “Get out of here. She doesn’t like it when I spill blood.”

Both stand from the table intending to get as far away from the inn as fast as possible when a yell for them to stop catches their attention.

“Better think twice before you go talking like that about another man’s woman again.”

Stormy eyes watch outside the window until the two are completely out of sight.

“Well, I suppose that’s a little better than the last time.” Her beautiful voice sounds amused to his ears.

Sandor turns to look at her. There’s a smile on her face and one hand rests on her hip. “Don’t know what you mean.”

She sits next to him at the table he chooses for their dinner. “You didn’t cut this one’s tongue out.”

He shrugs and looks at her face. “It upset you.”

An amused hum sounds in her throat. “So does it?”

“Does what?”

Her voice drops so only he can hear her. “Does my cunt taste like fine wine or apple pie?”

The good corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile that’s only for her. “Tastes like the finest wine made from the sweetest apples I ever had.”


	10. Surly Grieving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompts "It's okay to hurt and breakdown, you don't have to be strong all the time." & “You need to control your temper.”
> 
> WARNINGS: angry outburst

 

You could tell by his demeanor that Sandor was grieving Septon Ray’s loss. While you had come to expect a mellower version of his surly disposition, he was unusually quiet and that made you uneasy. The execution of the rogue members of the Brotherhood Without Banners who murdered the Septon and his people hadn’t seemed to give him the peace he sought.

Sandor sat apart from the rest of the group, away from you even, but a little nearer to the fire than he once did. Something he’d seen in it after speaking with Thoros had given him a different perspective on the thing that once terrified him.

When you sat next to him on the log he’d claimed, he didn’t even acknowledge you. You curled your arm around his where it rested loosely over his knee and pressed a kiss to the scarred side of his face.

His stormy eyes flickered your way, but he still didn’t say anything.

"It's okay to hurt and breakdown, you don't have to be strong all the time."

That just prompted a growl out of him, and he jerked away from you when he stood up. “The fuck do you know about how I feel, woman?”

“Sandor, I’ve shared your bed for a while know. I think I know you fairly well.”

He paced angrily in front of you and finally kicked the other end of the log, far away from where you sat but it was hard enough to nearly topple you off your end.

“You need to control your temper.” You quipped when you managed to steady yourself.

The man in front of you looked angry, guilty, and hurt all at once when his eyes dropped to yours. Rather than outright say he was sorry, he sat back down next to you on the log and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned into him while you both looked into the fire.

After several minutes he put his arms around you and seemed to relax just a little bit.


	11. Almost Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompts "What do you mean you're fine? You are not fine!" & "I'm fine, it's just a flesh wound. I'll be okay."
> 
> WARNINGS: mention of near fatal injuries

 

You were injured in a skirmish with the White Walkers and brought back to the keep at Winterfell to recover. The truth was you were almost killed and were it not for your brother, Jon, you wouldn’t have made it out safely. None of them wanted you fighting in this war, your family relented though, knowing your stubborn streak. On the other hand, Sandor continued to argue for you to stay in the keep where he thought you belonged.

He was still with Tormund, fighting with the Wildlings. Hopefully by the time he returned to Winterfell you’d be completely healed, and no one would tell him what happened.

That was not, however, your luck.

You’d been dozing in your sick bed when the door slammed open and there stood Sandor. Eyes stormier than you’d ever seen them, looking furious and terrified all at the same time. He was still in his armor and his arms were spread with his hands clenched tightly. There were splatters of blood over his torso and dirt streaked his face.

Tormund stood behind him, and when he caught sight of you sitting up looking back at them, he smiled and walked away.

You tried a smile on Sandor. "I'm fine, it's just a flesh wound. I'll be okay."

He shoved the door shut roughly and growled before actually responding. "What do you mean you're fine? You are not fine!"

“I promise, Sandor. The Maester said I’ll be good as new very soon.”

“Seven hells woman, you know I don’t abide lies.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth when it started to quiver. “I’m sorry, I…” Tears started to fall from your eyes as you finally acknowledged that you were lucky to even be having this conversation with the man you loved.

The anger completely faded from Sandor and he moved quickly to sit next to you on the bed. After removing his gauntlets and dropping them to the floor he took the hand of your good arm. His eyes stared at the back of that hand for a long moment while his thumb traced your skin, and when he spoke his gruff rasp was barely above a whisper. “I could not live with myself if you were taken away from me.”

“I know. I’ll stay here with Sansa and Bran for the rest of the war.”

He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, then leaned over and gently kissed your lips. “See that you do, or next time I leave I’ll have you chained to our bed.”

That brought a wicked smile to your lips and he chuckled as he kissed you more deeply.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work kudos are appreciated. If you love it comments are wonderful. If you have constructive criticism or questions let's talk. If you leave blatantly rude or negative comments, know that no hate is allowed here and will be deleted. And if you read my work and are too shy to interact right now, know that's okay too.
> 
> I can be found on Tumblr at https://rooker-character-fics.tumblr.com for any Michael Rooker characters (including Merle and Yondu) and https://too-many-fanfiction-fandoms.tumblr.com for other fandoms I write. Sometimes I take requests there, check my blog header to determine if I am taking them.
> 
> Just a general A/N regarding all of my work: Please understand that I update when writing inspiration hits. I never intend on abandoning an unfinished fic, so know that if I do I'll eventually get back to it when inspiration strikes again.


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